A blinding pain whited out his vision like a flare gun as something cracked against the back of his head. He gasped soundlessly in shock and stumbled forward, ears ringing.

Some part of him realized he was tipping over, slowly and indirectly toward the cement floor, but even as he fell, the floor seemed to shrink away from him, blackness eating at the edges of his vision.

There was a muffled, distant sound behind him and a deep survival instinct made him throw his arms over his throbbing head just as a second sharp crack came down on his wrist and the tunnel closed completely.

Cooper slipped into darkness.

Chapter Eight

There was dirt in his mouth. Dirt in his mouth and his nose and his ears.

That was the first thing Cooper noticed when he regained consciousness, and for one disorienting, terrifying moment, he thought perhaps they’d found him already, presumed him dead and buried him alive by accident. But then his eyes cracked open and the bright, piercing light was too painful to be anywhere but above ground, on this earth.

Cooper closed his eyes again and did a mental check of his systems. He was facedown on something firm but not uncomfortable, and his head was the most cause for concern. It was throbbing so strongly he wouldn’t be surprised if other people could see it move. His wrist was vying for a strong second place, but when he tentatively stretched out his fingers, the pain barely fluctuated, so he doubted anything was broken.

In third place of top concerns, but climbing fast up the ranks, he had a horrible taste in his mouth. Moving his tongue around, Cooper realized it was his own breath. Not just his breath, but the air itself stank. The smell so powerfully bad it seemed to sit heavy on his skin, clogging his airways, choking him. The more he paid attention to it the more overwhelmingly bad it became. Like something rotting and fetid, slimy and fishy.

Cooper stopped breathing and his eyes shot open, again. This time he refused to close them when the light tore straight through his corneas and jumped on an expressway to the goose egg on the back of his head. Less than a second of white-hot pain later, his vision reluctantly settled into actual shapes, shadows, and finally colors. Namely the soothing blues and greens of a jungle sky mural.

Cooper was back in the crocodile enclosure. Whoever had attacked him had dragged him back inside and closed the door behind them.

Very, very slowly, without getting up from his belly, Cooper turned his head, letting the wet mulch brush across his face, until he was looking in the other direction, toward the viewing glass, where he’d last seen the crocodile.

It wasn’t there.